I can’t tell you what I had for breakfast two days ago, but I remember, verbatim, the audio tapes we used to listen to in high school French class.

“Où est Phillipe?”

“A la piscine.”

“Avec Luc?”

“No. Avec Anne.”

“Où est Sylvie?”

“À la bibliothèque.”

So, in case you missed it, Phillip is at the swimming pool with Anne. Sylvie is at the library. Luc must have gone missing, or is otherwise unaccounted for.

I grew up in South Texas, surrounded by speakers of Spanish. Well, speakers of Tex Mex, actually. Not the proper Castilian Spanish, Tex-Mex is sort of a hybridized Spanish/Native Latin American/English sort of thing. With all that latin-ness going on, when it came time to take a foreign language, a forward thinking person would have opted for Spanish. But not me. I was not a forward thinking person. I lived in the now. And the now, back then, wanted to learn a more foreign language. Since my choices were limited to Latin, Spanish, French or German, I chose French.

I felt I was already too exposed to Spanish–even the grocery store announcements were bilingual–so I was rebelling against Spanish.

I am half German, and my grandmother spoke it. I took it when I was younger, so that would have been the next logical choice. But German is so guttural that even “I Love You” sounds something like “die, you evil bastard”.

And even at the tender age of 15, I knew that only those with a masochistic tendency, or who were destined for a degree in science took Latin.

So it was French. And in French, it even sounds lovely when you are telling someone EXACTLY what they can do with themselves. And I mean, I loved French fries, French bread, and French toast, so I figured I was already half way there.

The two years I took High School French was taught by the same lady that ran the ballet studio that my sister and I attended when we were younger. Madame Sulek. She was a lovely lady, with perfect posture, and her hair always pulled back neatly in a tight bun. She was also a Georgia peach with a great southern drawl. That means that I learned to speak French with a southern accent. So, bonjour, rather than being pronounced “bon-ju” sounded something like “bon-ju-ah”

Actually, the French language goes beautifully with a southern lilt, so I am not complaining. But my college French professor had hell for two years trying to correct my accent.

Madame Sullivan was from Chamonix, France. She looked exactly like what you might find in the dictionary if you looked up “French Woman”. She was long and lithe–the body of a ballet dancer. Her dark hair was very long and wavy, with no layers or bangs, but was almost always pulled back into a tight bun. She wore leather dress suits, with shirt tight skirts and body hugging jackets. As was the fashion of the time, the jackets had shoulder pads at the top and peplums at the waist. And to complete the ensemble, always fashionable high heels. She had a very wide mouth painted with red lipstick, and thick black eyelashes. I don’t know for sure, but I bet she smoked. If she did, I bet she smoked long cigarettes and blew gentle smoke rings while sipping red wine and eating baguette.

I learned much more about French culture than language in her classes. How the French regard Americans in general, and the foods that wouldn’t appear on a French table. One classmate was horrified to learn that ketchup is not well received in France.

Clueless girl to Madame Sullivan: “Well, then what do they put on their fish?”

Crickets chirping…..Clueless was completely befuddled, and I am guessing to this day that her frame of reference for fish is Long John Silver’s. With ketchup.

If you are even remotely interested in the culinary arts, you know that the French wrote the book on the matter. There’s a reason that the world’s best cooking schools are in France. Being a “Cordon Bleu Chef” does not mean that the chef makes a really good chicken cutlet stuffed with ham and swiss cheese. It means that he has graduated from one of the world’s most respected and elite cooking schools. It means he can make a pretty mean pot roast.

One of my favorite French dishes–Chicken Lyonnaise–is simple and rustic. The use of fresh and high quality ingredients is, as always, the key to success. Use fresh vegetables and herbs–not canned, frozen or dried, and use organic chicken if you can. It is far healthier and far tastier.

It’s been a while since I shared a Texas Fusion dish with you, and this recipe provides a great opportunity to do so. Below, you will find it prepared both in the traditional French way, and then tweaked with a bit of a Texas accent.

Chicken Lyonnaise, with Brussels Sprouts and Rice

Chicken Lyonnaise

Serves 6

¼ cup olive oil

1 whole roasting chicken, cut up

Salt

freshly ground pepper medley (I use black, green, pink and white)

¼ cup butter

12 large garlic cloves, peeled

2 sprigs thyme

1 cup cider vinegar

2 cups chicken stock

1/4 cup fat-free half and half

Preheat oven to 450°. In a large, oven safe Dutch oven, or deep skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Season all sides of the chicken with salt and pepper. Place in the pan, and brown on all sides. Add ½ of the butter, and stir to coat the chicken. Place chicken skin side up. Place the garlic on a cutting board, and give it a good whack with the side of a meat cleaver, just to smash it. Add the Garlic and thyme to the pan.

Place the pan in the oven, and roast for 15 minutes. Add the vinegar to the pan, swirling to mix. Baste the chicken with the sauce, and return to the oven. Bake until done, about 10 more minutes, basting a few times. Remove the chicken to a platter to rest.

Return the pan to the stove top, and add the chicken stock. Allow to simmer, scraping up any bits off the bottom of the pan. Allow to boil until reduced by almost half. Use a whisk to incorporate the remaining butter and the half and half into the sauce. Place the chicken back in the sauce, and simmer over medium high for a few minutes, to thicken the sauce–about 5 minutes—basting a few times.

Serve with a rice pilaf or a wild rice blend. My favorite is below.

Confetti Wild Rice Medley

Confetti Wild Rice Medley

Serves 8

3 tablespoons butter

½ each red, yellow, and orange bell pepper, diced

2 cups thinly sliced mushrooms

3 cups Rice Select brand Royal Blend

4 1/2 cups hot water

1/3 cup chicken base (paste style chicken bouillon)

In a large heavy stock pot, heat butter over medium-high heat. Add peppers and mushrooms, and cook until softened. Stir in rice. Add water and chicken base, stir well, and cover with a tight-fitting lid. Reduce heat to medium low and simmer for 15 minutes. Remove from heat, without opening, and allow to stand for ten minutes. Fluff with a fork and serve.

Leon Valley Chicken

Serves 6

¼ cup olive oil

1 whole roasting chicken, cut up

Salt

freshly ground pepper medley (I use black, green, pink and white)

2 teaspoons cumin

¼ cup butter

12 large garlic cloves, peeled

1 cup loosely packed chopped cilantro

1 cup white vinegar

1 cup chicken stock

1 cup beer (I use Abita Amber)

1/4 cup fat-free half and half

Preheat oven to 450°. In a large, oven safe Dutch oven, or deep skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Season all sides of the chicken with salt, pepper and cumin. Place in the pan, and brown on all sides. Add ½ of the butter, and stir to coat the chicken. Place chicken skin side up. Place the garlic on a cutting board, and give it a good whack with the side of a meat cleaver, just to smash it. Add the Garlic to the pan.

Place the pan in the oven, and roast for 15 minutes. Add the vinegar and cilantro to the pan, swirling to mix. Baste the chicken with the sauce, and return to the oven. Bake until done, about 10 more minutes, basting a few times. Remove the chicken to a platter to rest.

Return the pan to the stove top, and add the chicken stock and beer. Allow to simmer, scraping up any bits off the bottom of the pan. Allow to boil until reduced by almost half. Use a whisk to incorporate the remaining butter and the half and half into the sauce. Place the chicken back in the sauce, and simmer over medium high for a few minutes, to thicken the sauce–about 5 minutes—basting a few times.

Serve with a garlicky, coastal Mexican style white rice (see below)

Chicken With Coastal Rice

Coastal Mexican Rice

Serves 6

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 medium white onion, minced

5 cloves fresh garlic, minced

2 cups uncooked Texmati rice

3 1/2 cups hot water

¼ cup chicken base (paste style bouillon)

2 teaspoons finally ground pepper

Juice and zest of two lemons

In a large (7 quart) stockpot, heat butter and oil over medium high. Add onion and garlic, and sauté until softened. Stir in rice to coat with oil and butter. Stir in the remaining ingredients, and cover with a tight-fitting lid. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer 15 minutes. Remove from heat and let stand (covered) 5-10 minutes longer.

In the true French way, enjoy with plenty of wine…..

And for dessert, a little teaser for an upcoming article on French desserts…

My husband, Jay Cook, shared this latest blog with me. I think it was because when I first started teaching, I taught Spanish at a high school in Catasaugua Pa. I was born and raised in the south…definitely a southerner. I thought I was doing fine until at the end of the year, my fourth year students mentioned that at first they had trouble understanding my english AND my Spanish which were both spoken with a southern accent!

LOL! I remember those tapes too! I think Luc is at au cinema. Avec Sylvie. I remember Mrs. Sulak too-she looked like a french dancer-didn’t she have a dance studio? Funny story-we have a family from France at our school and I quoted from those tapes…with the Texas accent. We had fun in that class! Good times!

I took Latin and French. I waltzed through Latin as it is basically English and with studying Chaucer as well it was one class I could ace without studying. My French teacher was Scottish – with a lisp. I never made it out of that class. Though I can ask with certainty where the window is! 🙂

Your post made me laugh about learning French! I too chose French in High School. Good thing for me though is I pick up on accents really easy. Course right now I’m lucky if I can speak a speck of french! I’m from the midwest, so I had that accent to deal with. Then when I moved to Texas I picked up that accent. Now I’m in Canada and no one can understand a darn word I say because I speak midwestern/Texas/canadian dialect all my own! 😉 Now I want to cook one of these delish chicken dishes! Yum!!

I asked a Latino friend why Mexicans talked so fast. He said he doesn’t talk fast, us Southerners just talk too slow. He said we talk so slow he could go to sleep in the middle of a conversation. HA That chicken does look good. And I kinda resent that fish remark, if it ain’t fried, it ain’t fish! HAHA!

the chicken sounds divine… yes, I love French food too, but how about Italian, after all, Marie de Medici brought her cooks from Italy to start that French tradition!
Oh dear, I can hear de Pomiane, Brillat Savarin, Elizabeth David, and a few others turning in their graves.!

You are the Boss!. the musings are so appropriate. I am afraid my french was more from the traditional french texts much more formal about greetings etc. Wine and a good bouillabaisse still steals the show:)

Oh, Christine – I snorted – I remember the same French tapes, and visited France after 1 year of high school French… It was not nearly enough. And you haven’t seen an arrogant French waiter until you’ve tried to speak bad first year French to one. Oh, and we were visiting from Germany – where “I love you” sounded like hacking up a hairball… (which I considered doing to the French waiter, but I digress…) Many years later – my son went to Paris with his class – and had a memorable experience that I can’t quite call “culinary” – but… memorable… http://tomroush.net/2010/02/03/cat-piss-and-asphalt/

I think French waiters are the same even if you are a fluent French speaking American, in general. My high school French teacher said that she asked the waitress for another roll, and the girl hurled it at her from across the room, and it hit her in the chest and landed on her plate. Makes me REALLY want to visit. My parents said it was like that all over France, except for in Normandy, where they still remember who saved their asses during the war.

I can relate to the whole high school French thing. I took Latin for three years and added two years of French my senior year. I kind of wish I had learned Spanish because 1. more people speak it, and 2. the French is so deeply embedded that even when I’ve studied Spanish it comes out with a bad French/southern Ohio accent! This was a fun piece to read.

LOL this was a chuckle-worthy post. I have to say I agree with your assessment of the sound of German even though I absolutely love the language and culture. And the reference to Latin…similar reason why I did not choose to study it – unfortunately, I cannot for the life of me get the beautiful French accent – the best I can do is with a German accent, which in my book is slightly better than having an English-French accent. Now French with a Southern drawl would be a treat to hear! 😉

As someone who lives across the river from Quebec, “la belle provence,” I can tell you that our exposure to French culture is quite different from yours. Quebecois is not exactly “lyrical” and the cuisine is pretty much poutine and meat pie. And English is pretty much FORBIDDEN on Quebec soil, but French is forced upon the rest of the country. I would gladly have opted for Spanish, German, or yes, even Latin in a heartbeat. lol.